My Father's curse
by soulwarp
Summary: The wizarding world has abandoned Draco and his Mother, Lucius Malfoy is rotting away in Azkaban, and Draco is left with a life far more miserable than he had ever imagined. What good can come from this? You must read on...
1. Default Chapter

Prologue:

Death Eater, the name strikes fear into the hearts of self respecting wizards and witches worldwide. For Draco Malfoy, this was just another name, another masked face among the many he encountered day in and day out.

Killing Mudbloods and Muggles to bring honor and respect to their master is what Death Eaters prided themselves in. This was what Draco's father wanted him to be, a face behind a mask, killing and bringing honor to the name of Lord Voldemort and his family.

He'd make Draco indispensable to Voldemort. Like he and his father, and the fathers before that, what Lucius craved most was power. He thirsted for it, he lived for it.

Power and pride were the basis of the entire Malfoy family.

They had to be the best of the best, and they were.

They had to have the best of the best, and they did.

They had to be liked by both the light and dark side.

The light side had adored them, the dark side had praised them. What more could they want? They had it all. They always had, even in the days of their ancestors.

Their blood line was pure; there was not one single mudblood or muggle anywhere in their family tree, at least that's what they'd have you believe. Their wives were always the most sought after. Beautiful women you could imagine, and of course they had to have a pure bloodline to even be considered by a Malfoy.

The Malfoy children were always the most well behaved, and always followed in the footsteps of their parents.

With the exception of one, Draco Malfoy.

Draco had made following his Fathers order's his obsession, so as not to create reason for mistakes, but he always seemed to falter. Perhaps it was because he was trying much to hard not to mess up.

Whatever the reason, Lucius could no longer tolerate thoughts of losing everything because of his disobedient son, and created a curse to ensure Draco would be perfect.

But like many plans that are created by a greedy and hurried mind, there are always loopholes, tiny details one might have over looked. It are these microscopic errors that seem to creep up and destroy everything we thought we had so perfectly planned.

The curse in Lucius' eyes was perfect, a masterpiece, and one that would earn him admiration within his circle of Death eaters.

The curse was one that would turn Draco into a sort of drone causing him to think do and say as Lucius would think do and say. He named the curse the "Gemmelus" for it's Latin meaning of twin. A twin, it was exactly what Lucius wanted Draco to be, an exact replica of himself.

Only, like Lucius the curse was weak.

Lucius overlooked this, never wanting to confess his weakness and carried on for years priding himself on creating such a devious plan.

However, towards the end of Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts, Lucius was trapped in the deceitful threads of the web he had spun. He was exposed for what he really was, helpless and weak.

He was sent to serve a life sentence in Azkaban after Potter and his friends exposed him for being a death eater. The name of Malfoy was destroyed; there was no more pride, no more admiration.

They were now despised and loathed.

Narcissa Malfoy had become very keen on keeping the Malfoy name unsoiled. She donated to charities, supported social events, and did other such things people do when trying to be noted as good Samaritans, but it was to no avail.

The wizarding world spit them out and left them as outcasts. They would have to live in the shadows, to suffer the snide remarks made by other wizards and witches, to accept the dark stares and sneers of those they were despised by.

The summer grew colder, and as Lucius endured the tortures of Azkaban, he grew even more weak, as did the curse he had placed on Draco six years ago.

Unaware that his weakness had such an effect on the curse, he spent his time thinking of his son, who seemed to be his only savior in these dark times. It was true the Dementors had left Azkaban (which was now guarded by Aurors) to join the Dark Lord, but like the wizarding world, Voldemort had spit Lucius out as well.

Lucius had destroyed his plans. He had allowed Potter to take the prophecy. He hadn't tried hard enough to protect it, and that, in Voldemort's eyes, was unforgivable.

He would have to earn Voldemort's trust somehow, if he ever expected to regain half of what he had before. So he made plans for Draco to follow, plans that would most undoubtedly earn back his place as Voldemort's right hand.

Another plan to be fueled by weakness, but again Lucius made the mistake of overlooking this, again he held himself in too much esteem, not wanting to admit his failure. Again his plan would fail, just as his first plan was failing now.


	2. Identity crisis

Draco sat near the window of his bedroom watching as a storm approached. The lightning cracked the sky and made it look as if it were broken. He sighed and bit the nail on the pointing finger of his left hand. It was a nasty habit he had developed over the summer, one

he was sure had been caused by stress.

He picked up the days copy of The Daily Prophet, and made to read it but set it down as he had the last several times he had picked it up. He hated to read it anymore. His family always seemed to make the front page somehow, though they had not been seen by the wizarding world for weeks. Yet, his growing curiosity of what was going on in the world took over yet again, and he picked up the paper. He looked out of his window once more, and then averted his eyes to the cover of The Daily Prophet.

He scanned the headlines looking for mention of the Malfoy name, which he was pleased to find did not appear in any of the articles. He sighed in relief and looked over the headlines to see if anything interesting had developed lately. Nothing in particular caught his eye, just the usual rubbish, "Cornelius Fudge leaves the Ministry" and other Fudge related articles.

Fudge had left the Ministry at the beginning of summer, stating that, "The current events were much too stressful" and he was, "Incapable of making wise and accurate decisions under such stress." The post had been temporarily given to Amelia Susan Bones, who had recently been Head of Magical Law Enforcement Patrol until someone else was nominated.

The media had a field day with Fudges sudden departure from the Ministry, claiming everything from "Fudge leaves Ministry to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named", to Draco's personal favorite, "Fudge caught in Muggle Suburban hexing fire hydrants: The madness behind our ex Minister." None of these articles had been true of course, and many believed the same as Draco, Fudge left the Ministry out of embarrassment.

The Dark Lord had been under Fudge's nose for a whole year, and the daft bloke had been too blinded by his paranoia to notice. Overlooking such a mistake certainly did not make a good impression on the

Wizarding world, so Fudge, fearful of his reputation, fled on his own accord before too much could be said against him. 

The storm that had been approaching finally reached Malfoy Manor, and rain began pounding hard against Draco's window, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

Draco had always loved storms. They seemed to put him at ease, and though the storm outside was raging he felt relaxed for the first time that summer.

He put his copy of the Daily Prophet on his nightstand and retreated to the Ballroom.

The Ballroom was perhaps the finest room in the Malfoy Mansion. Though it was far from simple (as most rooms in the Mansion were), it had a certain charm to it that seemed to act as a magnet, drawing in passersby.

The walls stretched some twenty feet high, and were trimmed in gold crown molding. On the ceiling was a painting of a jumble of people engaged in what looked like a battle. Draco knew very little about the painting, only that it was called "The Damned" and that it had been painted long ago. The windows stood floor to ceiling, draped in black velvet. The parquet floors had once been danced upon by people of long ago, but had not served that purpose since the Malfoy's had purchased it.

The Ballroom had mostly been used for meetings between The Dark Lord, his Father, and the rest of the Death Eaters, but now served as Draco's place of escape. He had been coming here mostly everyday since his childhood. He would pull back the drapes to see the sky outside and play whatever song seemed to mirror his mood on the piano. Today it was "The Moonlight Sonata."

He sat playing, watching the storm as it continued to rage on outside. He had learned how to play the piano at a very young age by one of the nannies his parents hired to look after him while they were away on "Business." Her name had been Ilana. She was a brunette girl with piercing green eyes that seemed to be able to search out things in people, things they had tried to keep hidden.

Draco had developed a very special bond with Ilana; she was the only person he could confide in. Until one day she tried to take him from the Mansion after seeing him get a beating from his Father for eating

his dinner with the salad fork, rather than the dinner fork. Ilana, was of course, killed and Draco had not confided in anyone since.

Perhaps this was why he found himself in the Ballroom, playing mostly dark and sad melodies everyday. Perhaps this was the only means he had for reliving himself of his everyday burdens. He played the last note of the song, and sat quietly reminiscing over all of the hardships he had been faced with.

He had struggled most of his child hood to please his Father. Yet nothing had ever seemed good enough, and he found himself messing up quite often. He had received many beatings for his faults, and was sure his Father had had enough of his mistakes. His Father grew very distant from him for a while, locking himself in his office, only coming down for meals. He thought for sure his Father hated him, when finally, one day he emerged from his office a new man. He asked Draco to do him favors in which he would have never trusted him with before, and for once, Draco was finally able to accomplish his Father's biddings without messing up.

His Father became very proud of him, and pushed him to carry on even more weight, and he did so, without failure. The regular beatings he had become accustomed to ceased, and his Father even allowed him to sit in on meetings with the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord himself had even asked him to join his band of Death Eaters when he became of age.

His Father could not have been more pleased and boasted about him to all of his friends (whose children had not been as "privileged").

Draco had always been proud of his accomplishments, but felt as though something was missing. He never felt as if he had earned any of the praise he was awarded. Usually when he earned something, he felt a sense of accomplishment, but when it came to the matters of his Father, he felt as if he hadn't earned anything. Perhaps it was because he thought himself unworthy or perhaps it was deeper than that. It was like someone was guiding him along, giving him all the answers. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong, but knew, deep down, something was not right.

He walked out onto the balcony, where he always did his best thinking. He leaned over the edge and gazed out into the sky, the rain was pouring in on him, soaking him thoroughly, but he did not care. He watched the lightning strike the ground with a loud pop and listened to the thunder as it roared across the sky.

His mind drifted to his Father again and how he had suddenly been able to please him so easily. He remembered something Ilana had told him one night while his parents were away. It was a vague memory, but one he had played over in his head again and again, since his Father had been sent to Azkaban.

_He and Ilana were sitting at the piano, as they did most nights, when Ilana stopped playing and looked down at him with her piercing green eyes. _

"_Draco-" She had began, but then cut herself off, obviously not wanting to say what was on her mind. _

"_What?" He had asked, concernedly. _

"_Do you ever wonder why your Father stays up in his office most of the time?" She asked, staring down at the piano._

"_Yeah," He had said, dangling his legs off of the piano bench, "Why do you ask?" _

_Ilana bit her bottom lip and continued to stare down at the piano. _

"_I think he's up to something," She said, now looking at him. _

"_What do you mean?" He asked._

"_Well, I just think it's suspicious that's all._

_Just...watch out for yourself okay?" _

"_Okay." He replied. _

What if she had been right? What if his Father had been up to something in his office? What if that had something to do with how he was feeling now? He had felt strangely different since his Father's conviction. At first he had played it off as feelings he was having at the absence of his Father, but it went deeper than that. It was somehow different, almost like he was turning into someone else. Feeling a chill from standing out in the rain, he decided to drag himself inside, take a warm shower and change into some dry clothes before probing this situation any farther.

The rain still had not ceased when Draco finished his shower. It pounded his bedroom windows unmercifully and made him feel very serene. He pulled back the emerald blanket that covered his bed and lay facing the window. Watching the lightning again as it lit up the night sky. He pulled his blanket to him and wondered whether he'd ever see Hogwarts again.

Letters would be arriving soon, and he doubted he'd receive one. After the events that had plagued the beginning of summer he knew he would not be welcomed back to Hogwarts. He doubted he'd even see another wizard, much less his old school friends. Not that he had cared much for them, but at least they made his life a little less lonely.

Many of the Slytherins had viewed him the same way he viewed his Father: a role model, a person of great power and they would do the wildest things just to be noticed by him. Though he felt unworthy of the attention, he mopped it up, and went to great stretches to earn more, not because he was deprived of it at home, just that he liked being seen as an equal to his Father.

Many thought he hated Hogwarts, he had, after all, never said a single nice thing about it. They couldn't have been more wrong. He had loved Hogwarts; it was his only way of being free of this dreadful mansion. His insults against Hogwarts were just another part of his antics to be noticed. He knew that most all of the Slytherins despised Hogwarts, what would they think if he admitted he enjoyed it? They would think he were a fool, and shun him like he were a large box of Bulbadox powder. He couldn't afford that, or at least his Father couldn't anyway.

He began to remember all of the things he had done to gain his Father's pride, trying out for quidditch, studying all night to earn good marks in Professor Snape's class (not that he wouldn't have got them anyway), becoming a prefect, being part of Professor Umbridge's Inquisitorial squad. He had spent so much of his school life trying to please his Father that he had hardly had time to enjoy himself, and now it was gone.

He felt anger flame up inside him, he was angry at his Father for putting he and his Mother in this miserable position, and he felt angry at himself for trying so hard to be like him, for wasting what could have been the best years of his life.

He had lost interest in being a Death Eater, and though the Dementors had left Azkaban, he knew he'd never see his Father again. Even if he did escape the prison, the Dark Lord would never let Lucius walk as a free man. His struggles had earned him nothing but a life of loneliness and despair. What was he to do with himself now? He had no one to please, no one to be praised by, no one to look up to.

The storm had finally passed and Draco was unable to sleep. He decided to take a walk to the ocean behind the Mansion. Once outside his room, he made his way through the corridor. Candles lit themselves as he walked past, and the house elves bid him hello as they made their way from one side of the house to another.

He reached the back lawn and was not surprised to see the Gargoyles that guarded the perimeter of the house had woken from their daily slumber and were conversing with each other in a series of low mumbles and grunts. They reminded him of Crabbe and Goyle. They bowed their heads to him as he made his way by them, and grunted their greetings. Once on the beach, he took of his shoes and lay down in the sand, gazing into the sky to spot his favorite constellations.

Orange rain clouds still loomed ahead blocking his view, and all that was visible was a crescent crimson moon that hung lowly in the sky casting an eerie orange glow over the water.

He began picking up handfuls of sand and squeezing them, before letting them spill out from between his fingers. The sand reminded him of all the hopes and dream's he had, they were right within his reach, but he had somehow managed to let them slip by.

He rolled on to his side, he was fed up with thinking about what a miserable life he led, this would not lead him to peace, it would only make matters worse. He pushed up off of ground and began walking along the shore, picking up shells and tossing them in the water as he went.

He was trying to keep his mind occupied, thinking of everything but the loneliness that surrounded him. His mind traveled back to his days at Hogwarts and all those poor souls who had endured his malicious teasing

and rude comments. His mind fell on the three people who had most definitely heard the worst of it, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. 

He couldn't really come to terms with why he was feeling guilty about it. Perhaps it was because he had grown up considerably over the summer, and was forced to trade in his teenage years for the mundane life he led now. Really, Potter and his friends were so much better off than he had ever been, even if Weasley was poor, Potter had to live with muggles who hated him, and Granger was a Mudblood. They had led fairly enjoyable lives, had mostly happy childhoods (Save for Potter, but he had at least enjoyed his time in Hogwarts) and were well known and well liked throughout Hogwarts.

What had he, Draco had? His life was hardly enjoyable, his childhood had been despairingly terrible, and while he was well liked by many at Hogwarts, they had only liked him because of who his Father was, and how much like his Father he was.

Draco would have really given anything to earn the kind of respect Potter had. People loved him for who he was, not who he pretended to be. Perhaps this was why he hated Potter, besides of course, the fact that his father had told him to. He hadn't been too keen on Weasley and Granger simply because his Father told him they were bad people.

"_The Weasleys are about as foul as Muggles and Mudbloods, never get mixed up with that sort Draco, or else you'll be no better."_ He recalled his Father saying.

But surely the two of them couldn't have been that bad, could they? Granger was the top student at Hogwarts, and Weasley, well there wasn't really that much to be said about Weasley, only that he managed to become a prefect, which wasn't a very great accomplishment given his family history. But what did he care if they were decent people? They had gotten his Father put in prison, they had ruined his life, they had helped put him in this dire lifestyle.

Though the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize, that no matter how badly he needed an outlet, no matter how bad he wanted them to be at fault, it really was not their fault. His Father became a Death Eater on his own accord hadn't he? No one twisted his arm and made him do it. It was all just an example of the Malfoy's thirst for power, their longing to be above everyone else. Even Draco had at one time craved power, he had wanted to be above everyone else, but that now seemed like a past that was no longer a part of him. For now what was he?

"_Lowly Malfoy scum" _A witch had said to him at his Father's trial, and the name had stuck with him ever since. The witch had been right.

He walked slowly back to the Mansion, drug himself up the winding staircase to his bedroom and took a large gulp out of a potion bottle before falling into a dreamless sleep.


	3. The SDD

Chapter three:

The S.D.D.

The sun shone through the windows, leaving a trail of light across his floor and highlighting the dust that was slowly drifting here and there. He awoke when the beams of light hit his face and stared out at the morning sky. The storms that had raged last night had passed leaving behind a flawless blue sky. He got out of bed and pulled the curtains so tightly so that not even an inch of light could be seen, and darkness now flooded every corner of his bedroom.

He hated days like these, when the sun shined brightly in the sky giving the impression that today was to be a good day, when for him, everyday was just as lonely and black as the next. He walked across the dark room and sat on his bed. At least the darkness did not lie, it never gave promises of false happiness or hope, it was always certain.

He lit the candle on his bedside table and picked up the day's edition of The Daily Prophet. He scanned the headlines as he did everyday, for mention of his family name. Relieved to see the wizarding world had found better topics to discuss besides his family, he began to read the headlines.

**Minister of Magic, Matilda Bones puts new law in**

**effect.**

**By Gilbert Flinchen**

A new law has been passed within the Ministry, stating that all spells to be performed henceforth will now be monitored by a spell detection device created by the Department of Mysteries earlier this summer. This new device, otherwise know as S.D.D. (Spell Detector Device) monitors spells being cast by Wizards/Witches to detect illegal spell use, Unforgivable curses, and other suspicious forms of spells.

When a spell is cast it will be detected by the S.D.D., the S.D.D. will then log information on the type of spell, the spell sender, and location. If the S.D.D. detects an Unforgivable curse, or if the person sending the spell is wanted by the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, the S.D.D. has the power to stop the spell being sent and alert Aurors to the location of the spell sender.

Are their any spells the S.D.D. cannot detect?

The following is a list of spells undetectable by the S.D.D.

Ennervate

Ferula

Fidelius charm

Please note that Aurors (who commonly have to use unforgivable curses against suspected Death Eaters) are exempt from the S.D.D as well as a select few who must use such curses for undisclosed reasons.

If you have any questions/suggestions please contact the Ministry of Magic who will be happy to assist you.

Draco tossed the paper aside and lay down on his bed. He gazed up at his ceiling, which always reflected a night sky and thought about what he had just read.

In a way, the new S.D.D. came as good news to him. After his Father was sent to Azkaban Draco, had at times worried that the Dark Lord would attack he and his Mother for the trouble his Father had caused him. At least that was now something he would not have to think about for a while.

Though he knew it would be very short lived, the Dark

Lord would undoubtedly find a way to destroy it.

Right now what he needed to be worried about was getting more ingredients to make another Draft of Peace potion, the one on his bedside table would soon be empty. He had started taking the potion just after his Father was sentenced to life in Azkaban because he kept having the same horrible dream every night. The dream consisted of his Father begging him to come and free him, and giving him instructions on how to do it. Draco had a strange feeling that this wasn't a dream, but in fact a reality.

His Father, while he had been weak at times, was not completely powerless, and was capable of creating things beyond imagination. Draco was almost certain his Father had found a way to send him these dreams every night. But instead of following his Father's orders, he tried to make them disappear.

Part of him wanted to free his Father, to earn back some of the dignity they had once had. Yet another part, one that was becoming much greater everyday, wanted his Father to remain in prison, to pay for the trouble he had gotten himself into, to be miserable and suffer just as Draco was.

These two conflicting sides were becoming unbearable, and Draco could think of no other option but to force his Father out of his mind, and try to forget him. It wasn't easy though, and on occasion the part of him that wanted to free his Father would swell up and make him feel guilty for what he was doing, but the other side always told him that his Father had never shown signs of guilt for what he had done to his family, why should he show mercy he had never been given?

It was for these reasons he needed that potion, he could not carry on having these conflicts with himself, he would surely go mad if he did. He began racking his brain, searching for ideas on how to get the ingredients. He could probably get a house elf to go to Knockturn Alley for him, but could he trust a house elf with such an important task? No, he would need to do this on his own.

"But how?" He thought. He had several ideas but none of them seemed possible, or intelligent for that matter. He didn't really desire to go out and get them himself, for the risk of the off chance of running into a Death Eater.

He sighed in frustration, and rolled over in his bed catching sight of the abandoned Daily Prophet and almost smacked himself for not realizing it before.

No one would be able to harm him; they would all be too scared of the S.D.D. He could walk right into Knockturn Alley and not have to worry about being killed or even cursed.

He jumped up in a rush of excitement. He was actually going to go out in public again, he was going to get out of the oppressive mansion, and while going out into the wizarding world would not be completely pleasant, anything would be better than the miserable feelings that suffocated him in this place.

He quickly got himself ready and grabbed his broom. He usually preferred to travel by floo powder rather than flying, it was much faster, and less of a hassle, but today he would take to the skies.

It had been months since he had felt this happy, perched atop his broom, the warm summer air flowing swiftly through his hair, his broom soaring smoothly through the clouds. He was free. He looked down at the world below him; it was a mass of green and brown dotted with the occasional house, but was more open and free than anything he had ever seen. Before, the beauty of what lay below him was not remarkable, he had seen this site millions of times, everything had always looked the same from up here.

Though now, after being face with the possibility of never seeing another house, another scene, or another human for that matter, everything he caught sight of captured his eye, and he finally saw things the way they should be seen; it amazed him.

The fly to Knockturn Alley hadn't lasted long enough, and he was now dismounting his broom, preparing himself for the jeers and hateful looks that he would undoubtedly receive. His walk was graceful, head held high in the usual Malfoy fashion, (though this was more due to the fact that he couldn't see the distasteful looks being cast his way when he held his head at this angle) his chilled stone like features held a very vacant expression. His silver eyes cast looks of loathing down his nose at any passerby who dare utter a word in his direction.

He pretended to act as if their decision to cast him out of the wizarding world meant nothing to him. He wanted them to feel as if though he had never enjoyed being part of their world at all, and that his decision to come to Knockturn Alley was dreaded and forced, like a burden he was forced to bear due to some important task. It had of course, been the opposite way around, but for the sake of pride he carried on his act.

By the time he reached Borgin and Burkes those who had followed him around with taunts and vindictive threats had finally left him alone, realizing that there words seemed to have no effect on him at all. He smirked proudly to himself as he entered the store he had once considered his favorite. It was full of intriguing oddities and had captured his interest for the hours he had sometimes spent in this place with his Father.

Today however, the dark and dangerous objects the store possessed were about as interesting to him as flubberworms. He was here simply for the purpose of recovering ingredients that were harder to come by in

Diagon Alley, especially for a person with his reputation. He walked purposely towards the barrels of hellebore, ignoring the curiosity of the proprietor, Mr. Borgin. His focused remained on the task at hand, he only needed to buy the ingredients and get back to the Alley without being asked questions, a task that was becoming increasingly hard to accomplish without distractions.

"Well, Well," said Borgin. The man was never able to keep his curiosity to himself," What business do you have here?"

"None that concerns you." replied Draco, in his cold drawling voice

"Ah, you see that's where you are wrong Mr. Malfoy," said Mr. Borgin, in an oily, sinister voice, "You see it is my right as owner of this establishment to refuse the sell of such a dangerous ingredient to anyone who may want it for suspicious purposes. As seeing as your background is certainly suspicious, I think it would be fair to say I cannot sell you this product. You might endanger someone, and I simply cannot have that, can I Mr. Malfoy?" finished Borgin in an air of fake politeness.

Draco stared at the man, fingers gripped tightly around his wand, ready to curse him into oblivion. He could see the humor in the man's eyes, as if he thought his antics were funny, and this made him grip his wand all the more tightly.

They stood in a long silence, then Borgin light heartedly dipped his hand into the barrel of hellebore, and scooped up the pieces as if he had not a care in the world. Draco stood poised, trying to keep his usual uncaring disposition. If his Father had ever taught him anything, it was to never back down from a fight, but always take insults with grace, after all, there was never a tactic more useful than the element of surprise.

Draco smiled his most flashy smile, and looked at the man as he were an old friend.

"Who said anything about buying? "Draco said, scooping a handful of the hellebore into the pocket of his robes. "Cheers" He said giving the man a friendly wave goodbye, and bolting quickly towards his broom. Once in the safety of the air he soared full speed towards the mansion, realizing almost at once that he did not want to return there. It wasn't for fear that Mr. Borgin had alerted the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to Draco's theft, the man had too many illegal items hiding in his store to draw attention to himself, it was more for fear that he would never have another day like this. He then decided to fly a little off course and take in the freedom he had not had for what seemed like an eternity.

It was well after dark when he finally returned to the mansion. He had flown miles and miles and still felt that he had not fully enjoyed it for what it was worth, but the summer was beginning to give way to autumn, and the night air was more than a bit chilly.

He quietly made it to the privacy of his room so as not to disturb his Mother. He didn't need any more prying questions, not that she cared to talk to him much these days, but it was better for her to not know where he had been, and even better for him.

Draco walked into his adjoining bathroom, reaching into his large shower to turn it on. He got undressed and stepped into the warm water cascading out of the mouth of a stone dragon that stood almost realistically in the middle of the black marble floor. He felt his skin thaw and relaxed as the water splashed over him, turning his pale complexion into a patchy red.

Once he finished his shower, he grabbed the stolen ingredients from the pocket of his robes and began work on the Draft of peace potion.

The hellebore was as Mr. Borgin had said, dangerous. It held a poison, that if added in the wrong measurements, could be fatal. Everything must be precise, no detail overlooked. It was dangerous, yet thrilling at the same time. He stirred the simmering contents of his cauldron seven times counterclockwise, and sat down on his bed to await the moment it reached the perfect coloration.

The potion, had at last, became the perfect consistency, and funneling it into an empty jar, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. It was very rare his potions were ever made perfect, great maybe, but not perfect. He drink a decent amount of the smooth substance, and fell back onto his bed.

A week passed and life was back to its normal miserable state for Draco. He glared out at the stormy sky wishing he could be riding on his broomstick, experiencing the freedom that he had a week ago, but the storms never ceased it seemed and he was always stuck indoors, anticipating the day the storms would finally clear off and allow him to enjoy himself again. It was almost as if he was being mocked, he had enjoyed his taste of freedom, but it had only been a taste and he wanted more, he craved it. He had spent most of his days as of late poking around the house in search of some form of entertainment, but had turned up nothing.

His Mother seemed to grow more distant from him everyday, and remained confided to her room. She hadn't even come down to breakfast that morning, but instead had a house elf bring it up to her. He knew the absence of his Father was taking its toll on her.

At first his Mother had seemed hopeful that Lucius would be pardoned, that her donations would make the wizarding world believe they had changed, but her hope had seemed to fade at last, and she took to becoming distant from Draco, as if it were some how his fault.

He sat at his piano and pushed the keys, but he had lost his passion for it, like he had most everything else and spent most of the morning gazing wishfully at

the sky, it wasn't until after he had eaten his dinner

that things finally began to look up.

He had been sitting in his room reading Defensive Magical Theory when he noticed an owl perched on one of the Gargoyles that was mounted beside his bedroom window. The Gargoyle did not seem at all happy about the intruder on his head and began to flail his arms angrily to try and scare it off. The owl however, was quite unaffected by the Gargoyles disapproval of its perching spot, and remained calm, the letter it was carrying tucked tightly in its beak.

Draco unlatched the window and the bird flew in dropping the letter on bed and swooshing proudly back out into the stormy sky. Draco looked at the letter curiously for a moment before noticing something that made his heart skip a beat. The letter was stamped with the Hogwarts seal, Surely this couldn't be his School letter, though they were due to be arriving anytime. Perhaps it was just a letter telling him to sod off, and not worry about coming back to Hogwarts this year.

His heart sunk into his stomach, and a nervous feeling rushed over his stomach to turn itself in knots. He slowly tore open the envelope and emptied its contents into his hand. It was a heavy letter, and he could feel something hard and cold through the parchment curious, he opened the folded parchment to find a silver badge glittering in the candle light, and to his surprise, the badge read "Prefect" He read the letter to be sure it wasn't a sick joke, and when he could not find anything that would suggest it was, he read it again.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_Enclosed you will find a list of books needed for your sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as well your new prefect badge. It is recommended to wear this new badge as opposed to the older one, as it is in compliance with a new program we have set up at Hogwarts this year. Please also be aware that due to the current events taking place in our world, the current Minister of Magic has implemented a required Veritaserum potion to be given to all students upon their arrival. It is your duty as a prefect to make sure this potion is administered to all students. All prefects must take this potion on Hogwarts Express. Any one found to be in contact with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will face immediate expulsion, and possible arrest. _

_Enjoy the remainder of your holiday,_

_The Hogwarts staff_


	4. The truth

Yesterday it had seemed like a complete impossibility, but now, here he stood in his dimly lit room clutching in his hand the most beautiful thing he had ever seen put into writing, a ticket to his freedom.

He gently laid his new prefect badge upon his bedside table, so when he awoke the next morning, he would see it and know this had all been real. He smiled to himself as he crawled into his warm bed, he was going back, he was going to see Hogwarts again.

Of course, not everyone would be as pleased about it, and at one point or another he was certain he would be cornered in the corridors or stared at by fearful first years. None of it would really make a difference though, it was what he had become accustomed to.

The prospect of being more widely despised than he had been in his last five years at Hogwarts was like a tiny grain of sand that intruded upon a clean surface, while it didn't seem like much, it had the potential to become increasingly annoying until brushed away, leaving the surface untainted and lovely again. Draco might not have had the most spotless reputation, but he definitely didn't need another annoyance to dirty it up even more.

He planned to return to Hogwarts with a clean slate. He wouldn't go out of his way to be accepted, but would remain neutral, and focused only on his classes and his duties as a prefect. He would keep to himself, and if no one could see he had changed, then he wouldn't resort to his old antics, but would fall in to the crowd, go unnoticed, and complete his schooling. Though he preferred not to blend in with the crowd, it didn't suit the Malfoys, and his Father had sometimes joked that their need to stand out was why they were born with such a vivid hair color.

He sighed and looked out of his rain streaked windows, his heart was pumping wildly and excitement coursed through his veins, leaving him with a tingling feeling, and not allowing him to sleep. He reached for the potion on his bedside table, and taking a large gulp, he fell back onto his bed, leaving the potion to land on the floor with a soft thud, and spill its contents over the smooth black marble.

He awoke the next morning and quickly turned to face his nightstand to make sure his Hogwarts letter had not been a dream. He found his prefect badge in the same place he had left it last night, glittering and sparkling in the morning sunlight. He stepped out of bed to take a look at the morning sky, when he felt a cold and thick substance underneath his feet. He looked down and saw that his Draft of peace potion had spilled out its entire contents over his floor.

"Damn it" He said as he began rummaging through his room looking for his bottle of Mrs. Skowers All Purpose Magical Mess Remover.

"What am I going to do?" He thought has he sprayed the mess and watched the remains of his perfect potion disappear into the floor. He had no more ingredients to make another, and no way of getting the ingredients. Mr. Borgin would definitely curse him into oblivion if he set toe in his store again, regardless of the S.D.D.

Store owners in Diagon Alley would say the same thing Mr.Borgin had, "I cant sell you hellebore, its too dangerous." It seemed his only option was to not sleep, a risk worth taking if it meant he would be free from his Father's nightly intrusions.

He was none to happy about the prospect of not getting any sleep, but the gleaming sunshine that now poured through his windows brushed all thoughts of that aside, and he grabbed his broom and hastily made his way down the spiraling staircase to the front door. Opening it, he expected to see the front garden bathed in sunlight, but was instead standing face to face with a greasy haired, hooked nose man he immediately recognized to be Professor Snape.

The man looked at him through his beady eyes and said in a voice almost as dark as his robes, "Dumbledore has sent me to deliver your school supplies."

Draco stared at the man blankly; the man to stared back with almost the same vacant expression. He then broke the silence with, "You will find all of your School books, quills and ink pots, in addition to the hellebore ingredient Dumbledore said you were in need of in here," and held out a small cloth bag, filled to the brim with the items that Draco needed. Draco's expression changed from blank to confused as he tried to figure out how Dumbledore knew about the potion.

Clearly seeing the confusion on Draco's face, Snape replied, "You of all people should know that nothing gets passed Dumbledore, Draco." Draco nodded his head; he was still however as lost as he had been a few seconds before.

He knew Dumbledore was always keen on the going abouts inside of Hogwarts, but never knew he was just as keen on those outside of school grounds. He was grateful though; at least he would be getting sleep after all.

"I will be here Sunday morning at ten o'clock to escort you to the train," Snape said.

Then, glancing at Draco's broom, added, "The headmaster also said it's best not to ride your broom, you never know who's watching." And with a loud crack, the man disappeared into thin air.

Draco gloomily made his way back up the winding staircase and sat his broom back in its designated corner. He could understand Dumbledore's concern, but the with the S.D.D. In effect no one could harm him, Could they? Perhaps Dumbledore knew something no one else did, Dumbledore did after all, always know things no one else did. Maybe he knew the Dark Lord would be trying to destroy the S.D.D. Or maybe it had something to do his worst fear, the Dark Lord was trying to destroy him. Whatever the reason, he decided to trust Dumbledores decision, and not fly his broom.

He emptied the contents of the bag Snape had delivered onto his bed. He began looking over everything and felt his heart start skipping beats again as the excitement he had felt last night rushed over him once more. As he looked through his books he found that they were mostly based around Dark Arts. His potion book, which was entitled, "Deadly potions and how to use them" by Chiles Chilly described how to make a Draft of Death potion. It also gave helpful tips on how to recognize potions that had been disguised. His Defense Against the Dark Arts book not only had ways to defend your self against Dark Magic, but also gave instructions on how to use Dark Magic to your advantage.

He scanned his list of schoolbooks to make sure that he had gotten everything when he realized the books on his list were completely different than the ones on his bed. Instead of "Deadly potions and how to use them", the list read "Ancient Potions and how they are used today." Curious, Draco pulled out his quill and began to write to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore,

The books that Professor Snape delivered today are not the books that are on my school list. I think there's has been a mistake; all of the books I received are based on the dark arts.

Draco Malfoy

He rolled up the parchment and called for his hawk owl, Blake. Blake arrived within seconds and perched himself calmly upon Draco's nightstand. Draco tied the letter to the owl's leg and watched the owl as it soared gracefully into the evening sky until he was nothing but a tiny dot.

After Blake had flown off, he began rummaging through the books and ink pots that now littered his bed looking for the hellebore ingredient to began work on another potion. He found it under his Herbology book and quickly set to work stirring and mixing, making sure everything was in its exact proportion, and seeing that no detail went unnoticed.

Finally the simmering potion had reached its expected thickness; though it was not as perfect as the one he had made before, it would have to do.

Just as he was bottling it, Blake soared back through the open window and dropped a letter on his bed, before flying back out into the now black and star sprinkled sky. He tore open the letter and quickly read Dumbledore's response.

Draco,

That is how it should be, a full explanation will be given at the opening feast.

Albus Dumbledore

Draco was confused for a moment but decided it was better not to question his response. Dumbledore had always been very mysterious, but always had good reasoning for it, and though Draco had never admitted it, he respected and trusted him.

Glancing once more at the night sky, Draco drank some of his potion and fell into a deep undisturbed sleep.

Time was something that Draco had an abundance of all summer, but today his time was slowly dwindling down. Snape would be arriving soon to escort him to the Hogwarts express, and he was franticly running about his room in search of any unpacked items. This wasn't like him; he was usually very prompt about time and never had to resort to running around making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. However, he had forgotten to tell the house elves what time to wake him up, and had woken up an hour later than he had meant to.

Finally, securing the snap on his trunk he bolted down stairs to await Snape's arrival. Unlike Draco, Snape arrived precisely on time, and they made their way through the dew-covered lawn to a lawn ornament that had been placed secretly in the corner of his Mother's garden.

"This is a portkey, Draco, I'm sure you know how they are used. We will be leaving as soon as I get a signal."

Draco looked curiously at the portkey. It was a tiny man, with a long white beard, holding a large stick in its hand. It looked almost like Professor Flitwick, and Draco smirked at the thought of seeing Professor Flitwick wearing a tall red hat like the one perched atop the lawn ornaments head.

After a long silence a squeaky voice could be heard. Draco looked around and realized that the voice was coming from the portkey.

"It is time to go now," the little man wheezed, and then he went rigid again. Draco and Snape each put a finger on part of the portkey, and Draco felt his stomach come up in his throat, and then felt his knees hit a hard surface.

He looked around, and saw that they had appeared in a secluded corner on the outside of Kings Cross Station. Draco got to his feet and followed Snape through the torrents of Muggles hustling to get to their destinations. Draco had to walk in a very fast pace to keep up with Snape's long strides as they dodged the muggles and their curiosity at seeing the two men dressed in robes and pushing a trolley which contained a caged owl.

Finally they reached the platform, and Draco leaned casually against it before falling through to the other side. He could hear the train whistling and the sudden mummers of surprise as many of the students who were waiting to boarded the train stared at him, some in surprise, and some in disgust. He looked around, feeling very uncomfortable before Snape appeared behind him and began dragging him to the train.

"Ignore them," Snape muttered, seeing the uncomfortable look on Draco's face. But Draco couldn't ignore them, he had known this was going to happen, but actually seeing it happen made him feel a great deal more nervous than he had been, and filled him with a sense of dread. Feeling horribly uncomfortable, Snape led him into the prefect's compartment where he found them all excitedly waiting for Professor Mcgonagall.

As they entered their voices became hushed, replaced by shocked stares. Many of them were giving Professor Snape the same look of contempt they were giving Draco. Snape ignored them and began looking over a list that held all of their names on it, checking to make sure they were all there. Only one was missing, Pansy Parkinson. No one had expected her to come back though, her Father had escaped Azkaban after the Dementors left and he and his family had gone into hiding. Draco could tell that they all had expected he and his family had done the same.

"We will begin when the train departs," announced Snape, clearly annoyed at having to conduct the prefects meeting. Silence fell over the crowded compartment as they all looked as equally annoyed as Snape, and then a small voice in the back broke through causing them to all turn and face her. Draco however, did not, he sat very still trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone but Snape and the floor.

"Sir," the familiar of Hermione Granger meekly said, "Where is Professor Mcgonagall?"

The other students all nodded in agreement and Snape looked at them all, annoyance shining brightly in his beady black eyes. "Your headmaster thinks it best for me to conduct this meeting as I will be distributing the Veritaserum to each of you."

And with that, a loud whistle could be heard and the train began to move very jumpily along the tracks. "We will begin then," Snape announced, pulling a large bottle of potion out of his bag.

"When I call your name, you will follow me to the next compartment where you will be taking the Veritaserum potion and after we have finished, you will come back here. Any questions?" Everyone looked around curiously to see if any hands were raised, then shook their heads in unison as Professor Snape called the first student away.

Finally it was Draco's turn, and he couldn't help but feel a little excited. If he returned to this compartment that would mean he was innocent and perhaps his fellow students would look at him in a different light. As he got up he could feel ten pairs of eyes piercing him, all curiously wondering whether he would return.

He followed Snape out into the next compartment and sat down. This compartment, unlike others on the train, had dark black windows to prevent people from seeing in or out, though the inside was still bright enough to give the impression that the sun was shining through. Snape handed Draco the potion bottle and he swallowed a large amount of its contents.

He began feeling dreamy, it was like being in a state of euphoria, and as he looked at the man in front of him, he felt a strong urge to tell him everything. The man cleared his throat and began looking over a piece of parchment before beginning.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" Snape asked, looking him square in the eyes.

"Yes" he replied, the words just seemed to fall out of his mouth, and he had no control over what he was saying.

"Have you, or anyone you know talked to, heard from or seen The Dark Lord recently?"

"No"

"Do you agree that you are not being controlled by any type of Magic, or person?"

"No." Draco replied, surprising even himself.

"You do not agree you are not being controlled?" Snape asked, surprised by his unexpected response.

"No" Draco replied again.

"Are you being controlled by someone?" Snape asked, his voice becoming barely a whisper.

"Yes." Draco replied, and felt his heart sink in to the pit of his stomach. How could he admit to being controlled not even knowing himself that he was?

Snape stared at him with his beady black eyes full of wonder, and a flicker of fear before asking the question Draco wanted to hear the answer to himself.

"Who is controlling you?"

"My Father," Draco replied, and immediately wished he could take it back.


	5. The welcoming feast

Draco followed hurriedly behind Snape as they made their way through the dark and twisting corridors of Hogwarts. He was to be meeting with Professor Dumbledore, who would be deciding whether or not it was safe for him to return to the school.

Upon entering Dumbledore's office, Draco imagined he was feeling much the same as his Father had felt on the day of his trial. The occupants of the portraits that hung disheveled on the walls were looking at him with open contempt, much the same as the jurors had looked upon his Father.

Snape directed him to a plush chair and told him the headmaster would be along in a moment, then leaving Draco alone in the dimly lit office.

As he sat he could catch pieces of the hushed conversations the portraits were having.

"Should have never let him in the castle..." commented an old man, shaking his head sadly.

"Don't worry Dumbledore'll straighten him out," remarked a woman with hair so long it tickled the frame of her portrait.

"That's right, Dumbledore'll straighten him out he will, have 'em taken the first train out o' here," Said an angry voice of a man, clearly no longer trying to keep his volume to a whisper.

Draco's heart fluttered nervously around in his chest. He began trying to deter his attention away from the portraits and began concentrating on one of the random oddities Professor Dumbledore kept on display in his office.

He was however, finding it increasingly hard as the portraits continued their spiteful ramblings. Though they were speaking in quite tones, it was almost as though they wanted him to hear what they were saying, and with each second that passed, the voices became louder and louder until he could not even hear to think.

Just as he was contemplating jumping out of the nearest window, Dumbledore entered the room wearing robes of scarlet, a matching hat, and that sparkle in his eye that always gave off the air that he was up to something.

"I'm not so sure I understand the confession that you made on the train." He began, sitting on the edge of his claw footed desk."I am told that you confessed to being under your Father's control, yet there is nothing in your behavior to suggest it. If anything I think your behavior has improved miraculously over the course of the summer."

Dumbledore paused, looking intently at Draco before he continued, "Therefore I feel it is safe to assume that allowing you to return to Hogwarts is no more a threat than allowing any of our other students to return."

"However, I think that you, as well as I, are curious to find the reasoning for your confession on the train, so I have enlisted the help of Miss. Hermione Granger, whose knowledge of spells far surpasses anything these old eyes have ever seen. You will meet with her twice a week to research this matter, and I feel your time with her will not be wasted."

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I believe we have a feast to attend, and if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get my speech over with soon, I feel like I haven't eaten in centuries."

Dumbledore was gone in a faint whisper flash of scarlet red, treading through the corridors at top speeds that even Draco, in all of his young years could not reach.

He followed as quickly as he could, and by the time he reached the doors to the great hall he was sure it would be months before he could catch his breath again.

Nervously, he pushed open the doors to the great hall to find every eye on him. The hall was deafening quiet, and he resumed his straight haughty posture as he made his way over to the Slytherin table. Although there were only about seven to return, he could feel all of their eyes burning into him. He could hear the squeaking of the wooden benches as they all leaned nearer to their friends and a loud buzz filled the hall, one he was undoubtedly the cause of.

The buzzing finally died down and then came to a complete stop as Dumbledore stood to give the traditional welcoming speech.

"Welcome all, to what I am sure will be another fine year at Hogwarts." Everyone began clapping and Dumbledore raised his right hand to silence the room.

"The staff and I are very pleased to introduce a few new programs to the school we have been working on throughout the summer, but first I'd like to introduce your new defense against the dark arts teacher, Mrs. Bilynda Dill."

A pretty woman wearing robes of deep brown stood. She had big green eyes and shoulder-length curly brown hair. When compared to Professor Umbridge's frog like appearance, Draco found it would be much better to look at this woman during class. He might even actually pay attention, which is something he never had to do because he had learned the Dark Arts from his Father at a very young age and was fully capable of defending himself against them.

The hall clapped and Bilynda gave a small bow before settling back down in her chair.

"Now, I'm sure you've all noticed a change in your school books, I know this because I received a letter from everyone over the summer inquiring about them; and from some, several frantic letters asking why all of them were not needed, and if they could purchase the books anyhow," His gaze landed on Hermione Granger, and Draco watched as she blushed deeply. He then realized she was quite pretty when she did this. She had grown up a lot; her once bushy hair was now merely wavy. She had developed in more ways than one. Draco shook these thoughts from his mind as he diverted himself to the once again speaking Dumbledore.

"The books that were on your list were decoys. You see, some of our students were believed to have ties to Lord Voldemort."

The hall gasped at the mention of his name; many worried glances were tossed in Draco's direction as he tried hard to make his face remain neutral.

We could not afford to have him informed that we were implementing the use of Dark Arts this year. The books were charmed, those who had no ties to him would see them for what they really were, and those that did are probably still carrying around "Ancient Spells and how they are used today."

"Which brings me to my next point, in addition to learning Defense against the Dark Arts this year, you will also be studying the Dark Arts. I must say, the task of finding someone suitable enough for the job was nearly impossible. Therefore, I am happy to announce that I will be teaching the class."

The hall clapped and cheered loudly, before being silenced again by Dumbledore.

"It is also my sad duty to remind you all that the Magical world is on the brink of a war, and it goes without saying that each of us, at some point or another will somehow be affected by it. It is with this in mind that I stress to you again this year how vital I believe it is for us to becoming united, as one."

"I understand that last year, uniting ourselves was made very difficult by a person who sought to drive us even farther apart. But that person is gone, and now there is nothing in our way to keep us from accomplishing that goal."

"Now on a lighter note, the staff and I have planned a series of new events to take place this year, in the hopes to bring us all together, and diverting our attention, if only for a while, about the sad events sometimes occurring in the magical world.

" I of course, enjoy keeping everything secret, so I will not be telling you what these plans are. You can, however, check the notice boards in your common room for the dates and times of these events.

"Now, with that said and out of the way, I believe we have a feast to tackle, so everyone tuck in."

At those words the tables blossomed with every type of food imaginable, and every eye that had been watching Draco, averted their attention to the hot and steaming food that had appeared before them.

The feast, was as always delicious, and as everyone pushed themselves to take a few last bites of the things they had piled their plates with, the familiar sleepy feeling that usually occurred after the feast set in, and again, Dumbledore rose to say a few last words, before sending them all to their dormitories.

"Prefects, be informed that after you have led your fellow classmates to their dorms, you are to return here for a meeting.

"Filch of course would like me to remind you that no magic is allowed in the halls between classes, and I'm sure a whole list of items have been banned from the school, so please check the list on his office door to ensure you are not found in possession of any these offensive items."

"If you must carry them around, and are caught, please note that the items become mine, and as I usually enjoy them so much, I doubt you will ever see them again. I hope you all have a good start of term tomorrow, and will remember to check your notice boards for upcoming events."

"Oh, and of course, the forbidden forest is of course forbidden, you are not to enter it under any circumstance. Good night."

And with that, the students rose to their feet to make their way to their common rooms. Draco looked around at the Slytherin table. Four out of the seven people that had been sitting their were first years.

They followed him out of the hall and aside from telling the students the password to the Slytherin chamber, nothing else was said.

After the first years had all safely made their way inside, he made his way back to the great hall where the prefects meeting was to be held. He took his place back at the Slytherin table and waited for the other's to arrive. After five minutes of waiting, the others returned, chatting animatedly to each other before noticing Draco, and almost stopped dead in their tracks.

They were all clearly surprised to see that he was still a prefect. They exchanged looks and went their separate ways, each sitting on the benches of their own house table. He could feel the heat of their stares and the hiss of their whispers. Luckily he didn't have to endure this for long, as Dumbledore had now entered the Great Hall once again. He stood in front of the Gryffindor table and motioned towards the room of teenagers.

"If you all don't mind, I think we should all be seated at one table, I find it's easier to address you all that way."

Nervously Draco and the rest of the prefects rose from the comforts of their house tables, and assembled at the Gryffindor table in the middle of the hall, where Dumbledore now sat, having conjured a purple chair.

"Very well then. First I would like to say that as prefects it is mandatory that you all start setting examples for the other students. This year's mission is to bring about inter house unity, and I would like to see it start right here tonight, among you all. So please, every one stand and shake hands with one another."

Reluctantly, and nervously on Draco's part, everyone stood and began shaking hands. Hermione approached Draco first, followed by Ron, and then the rest of the prefects, some of whose hands shook so badly, they could hardly keep them still long enough to shake his hand.

"Very good, now, I'm sure you have all received your new prefect badges?" Everyone nodded and he continued, "I'm equally sure you are all wondering what they are for?" Again everyone nodded, some exchanging puzzled looks.

"Well I'm sure some of you heard my speech tonight on the new programs we have planned for this new school year?" Dumbledore waited as a few of the prefects nodded and the rest looked confused.

"Well to those of you that were listening, you will remember that I said I was keeping everything secret. Only, the staff and I will require a little help on your part. So when the time comes for you to meet with us, your badges will grow warm and vibrate. This is enhanced by a protean charm, which I don't think many of you are familiar with, besides those who were in the D.A. last year."

"Another fine idea that I recall Miss. Granger used was one that would expose a sneak, and as I am very serious about keeping our plans this year secret, I'm afraid I've done the same to your badges."

"You eight are the only ones who will know my plans, and if you tell another, your badge will shine a very bright red. If you are found to be a sneak, you will be punished.

"Your punishment is one I plan to keep secret as well. I'm leaving it to your imaginations to decide what you think it may be."

Some people around the table gave involuntary shudders, others looked horribly frightened.

"Very well." Said Dumbledore, who had a slight look of amusement on his face, "You are free to return to your dorms, Good night."

Everyone rose and mulled around for a moment, their separate ways back to their dormitories.

Draco could hardly wait to reach the Slytherin chamber. His eyes were heavy with sleepiness, and his body longed for his four-poster bed. His thoughts were interrupted as the hand of Hermione Granger landed on his shoulder.

"Malfoy," she said, with a certain tone of softness in her voice. He didn't know why she was talking to him as he was an actual person, because as he turned to face her, he visualized every selfish and foolish thing he had done to her. He wasn't a person. He was a monster. She had never deserved any of that, and he knew that now.

"Tomorrow, meet me in the library. We have some research to do." She watched him nod silently and turned around to rejoin Ron, who was giving him the worst look he had gotten in a long time. He walked out of the great hall, relishing the idea that she had treated him kindly, like someone that mattered.

He reached the boys dorm in a very tired state. It felt as though he had floated the whole way there, and as he climbed into his warm bed he immediately fell into a disturbed sleep, in which his Father haunted his dreams.


End file.
